On the Fifth Year of Hanumas
by Zivacentric
Summary: Some of the most important moments in your life happen when you're not even looking. What develops between Ziva and Gibbs as they work the holidays together every year? Rating has gone up with the last chapter. Written for NFA SeSa 2011. Happy Hanumas!
1. The First Year

_A/N:_ _This is the first chapter of a new Zibbs story I wrote for Sarah Withers for the 2011 Secret Santa story exchange on NFA. Updates will be posted fairly quickly since it is already completely written. I was thrilled to write for my friend and fellow Zibbs-lover and I really love how this story turned out. I hope you do, as well. Perhaps you'll let me know? =)_

_Sarah's Prompt: If a romantic pairing is involved Ziva/Gibbs ... Maybe a nice fluffy family holiday fic with guest appearances from Papa Gibbs and Daddy David. Or if my author isn't feeling the fluffy holiday vibe perhaps a darker case based fic where something happens to Ziva which makes Gibbs reveal their relationship to the team._

_Usual disclaimers apply … darn it. _

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><p>Ziva strode purposefully off the elevator toward her desk at NCIS. It was her first Christmas Eve as the Mossad liaison and she idly wondered who might be working with her this evening. She knew Tony and McGee were not scheduled to come in tonight, but she'd volunteered to work today and tomorrow as she did not celebrate Christmas nor did she have family here with whom to enjoy the time off.<p>

Hanukkah had passed, but she hadn't gone home. While Ziva's family observed that holiday, she doubted she would have returned to Israel to spend it with her father even if it had not been one of the lesser important holidays in Judaism. To say their relationship was strained – especially since she'd moved to the United States - was an understatement.

She might have spent some time with Jenny, but the director was off on an annual ski trip with some friends from college with whom she still kept in touch. Ziva had been invited along, but she had declined. Spending a few days in close proximity with several people she didn't know and who already knew each other well did not appeal to her.

Ziva had taken second shift that night as it was the least popular on Christmas Eve. As she walked up to her desk, she was surprised to see Gibbs sitting at his. She stopped and stared at him, her brow furrowed and her head cocked just a little to the side.

"Problem, David?" he asked, not even looking up from his computer.

"No," she answered reflexively. "I just thought –" She stopped talking abruptly and moved behind her desk.

"You thought what?" he asked when she didn't continue.

"Nothing," she mumbled, not feeling comfortable enough yet to push him on why he wasn't visiting his father for the holiday. Granted, he never talked about him, but Ziva knew from the thorough research she'd done on Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs prior to coming to the States that his father was alive and well and living in Stillwater, Pennsylvania.

Without fuss, she removed her coat and put the matzo ball soup she'd brought from home in the refrigerator in the break room, then returned to her desk. She sat in her chair and they passed the shift with minimal talking, finishing up reports and paperwork from the week. The silence was comfortable, though – much more comfortable than anyone might have expected.

When it was time for a dinner break, she pressed him into sharing the soup she'd made and brought in with her. He tried to refuse, not wanting to take her supper, but she insisted they split it. She informed him she had more at home as she only knew how to make this soup in one quantity: lots. He'd smirked as her eyes twinkled. Their dinner conversation was casual and surprisingly easy.

When they walked to the parking garage together at the end of their shift at 11 p.m., Gibbs commented that she should get some sleep since she was working a double tomorrow. As they stopped by her car, she looked at him in surprise. Then she realized that he would have looked at the schedule, of course.

"See you in the morning," he said offhandedly, heading toward his truck.

"You are working, too?" she called after him, surprised.

"Uh-huh," he answered nonchalantly.

She started to slide into her car, an unexpected - and inexplicable – warmth spreading inside her. She looked up as he spoke again after opening his own door.

"Hey, David." He waited for her to meet his eyes. "Feel free to bring more soup."

His tone was joking, but deep down he hoped she did bring more; it was damn good soup.

She laughed lightly, but that warmth increased by a notch or three.

She showed up the next day not only with a large container of soup, but also with a couple of other surprises, as well: mouth-watering biscuits and a pumpkin pie.

His stomach growled as soon as he caught the aroma of her collection of goodies. She grinned.

"It sounds like I should have brought breakfast, too," she teased. His endearing half-smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.

He tilted his head toward his coffee. "Breakfast."

She shook her head at him.

"Thought I told you to get some sleep," he pointed out, though not sharply.

"I did," she assured him. "I just needed to unwind a little first and cooking helps me do that." She left out just how much her nocturnal activities had cut into the aforementioned sleep.

Ziva had placed the basket she carried on her desk so that she could take off her coat. Gibbs stood up and walked over, lifting the lid to take a peak at the food.

"Well, if this is what you do to unwind, I'll have to wind you up more often," he teased.

Brown eyes snagged blue as a zing of awareness arced between them at his words, taking them both by surprise. Ziva felt a light blush tinge her cheeks and she was the first to look away.

She mumbled something about putting the food away and carried it to the break room where she stowed it in the fridge. She added a note to the basket that promised dire consequences for anyone who didn't KEEP OUT, and she signed it so any potential lunch-stealing thief would know she meant business. Not many people knew Officer David very well yet, but everyone knew better than to mess with her.

Ziva had removed the container of biscuits from the basket to take back to her desk as she didn't want them drying out in the refrigerator. On impulse, she pulled two of the biscuits out, warmed them just enough in the microwave and slathered on some of the butter she'd brought. Wrapping them loosely in a paper towel, she carried them back to the bullpen. Without a word, she laid them on Gibbs' desk and stepped over to take a seat at hers. She glanced over at him to find he was looking between her and the food in surprise.

"Think of it as breakfast – or a sneak preview of lunch," she suggested with that quick, appealing wink of hers she'd had since he'd known her. She tucked the container with the rest of the biscuits out of the way.

Gibbs took a bite. His mouth was still full when he mumbled these were really, really good biscuits. She flushed with pleasure.

Gibbs and Ziva ate lunch together in the break room and bounced some theories and questions off each other related to a couple of cold cases they'd been going over. Gibbs ate seconds of the pie, making Ziva secretly glad that she'd stopped at not one but two all-night markets that had surprisingly been open on Christmas Eve in order to find what she'd needed to make the dessert. The sleep she'd sacrificed in baking the pie last night and getting up a little early this morning to whip up the biscuits was all worth it when she saw the clear enjoyment on his face.

As for him, the last time anyone had cooked for him was so remote that he couldn't even pinpoint it.

Ziva wrapped up what leftovers they had and informed Gibbs that she was sending the extra food home with him. He'd enjoyed the food too much to refuse, so he settled for a quiet, "Thanks." She beamed.

Several hours later, they still had quite a bit of time to go in their double shift. They hadn't been called out on a case and around dinner time they started to get hungry again. Suddenly, Gibbs stood up and Ziva looked at him.

"Send dispatch an e-mail to call our phones if they need us," he ordered, "then let's grab something to eat."

She quickly did as he said and then snatched up her phone, badge and gun. She bundled up in her coat, shoved her wallet in her pocket, and added her hat, scarf and gloves. Gibbs' only concession to the cold was his overcoat. Neither of them spoke in the elevator on the ride down to the main floor, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable.

As they stepped out into the evening, Gibbs asked, "You up for a walk?"

"I would love a walk," Ziva admitted with feeling.

She turned her face up to breathe in the brisk winter air and inwardly marvel at the stars that sparkled like diamonds in the sky. It got dark early here this time of year.

Gibbs watched her with his characteristic half-smile on his face. He didn't yet know the reasons for all the shadows in her eyes and the protective walls she kept up most of the time, though he could guess at a few. But when he saw her happy, her guard relaxed, it did something to his heart. If he were a man who ever thought poetically, he might have considered that a little piece of his own armor cracked in response.

He started down the sidewalk to his left and Ziva caught up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, not really caring. She'd only known Gibbs a few months, but she'd already follow his lead anywhere. "I would not think many restaurants are open today."

"They're not. But if the rumors are true, you won't be the only Jewish person in the room," he answered enigmatically.

Her brows drew together under her knit cap and her nose wrinkled adorably. She threw him a puzzled look.

"Chinese restaurant," he revealed, his blue eyes twinkling in the light of the street lamps.

She threw her head back and laughed delightedly.

Gibbs stopped in front of a red door and pulled it open. The hostess of the restaurant greeted them warmly, addressing Jethro by name.

"Welcome, Special Agent Gibbs. It is a pleasure to see you again. It has been a while."

He nodded. "Good to see you, too, Mei."

The woman turned her friendly smile on Ziva. "You have a lady friend with you this time. Welcome."

"Thank you, but I am not –" Ziva started.

"This is Ziva," Gibbs interrupted.

"We work together," Ziva felt compelled to add.

"Ah," the woman responded, though her tone hinted that she was skeptical that "working together" summed up their relationship completely.

Mei took them to a booth and settled them in with menus and water. A quick glance around showed a few families of Asian descent, but it was possible that more than half of the patrons could be Jewish judging from outward appearance alone – not that that was a reliable method of determining such things.

Ziva looked into Gibbs' eyes with mirth snapping in her own.

"Perhaps there is some truth to that rumor, after all," she observed with a small chuckle.

Gibbs smirked knowingly. But to his surprise, he discovered right then and there that he liked making her laugh, seeing her smile.

They chatted over dinner about light topics, learning a bit more about each other. They hadn't done much personal talking before this. After all, they'd only known each other a few months and had gotten off to a rocky start for various reasons – her brother's actions and Jen's unilateral decision to place the Israeli on his team, just to name a couple of obvious ones.

There had, however, always been some indefinable connection between them.

The food was delicious and the company was comfortable and enjoyable.

Gibbs paid the bill, refusing to let Ziva pay for her dinner. He pointed out that she'd fed him twice in the past two days and it was his turn to reciprocate. He drew a grin from her when he admitted that he was much better at buying food than making it.

As they walked back to NCIS, it began to snow. Ziva made a happy noise and immediately turned her face up to the flakes.

"Sometimes the cold is too much for me," she revealed, "but I love the snow. There is something beautiful, almost magical about it."

Then she remembered to whom she was talking and ducked her head in quiet embarrassment.

Jethro felt privileged to see this side of her, this facet of her personality that was normally well-camouflaged behind her stoic, task-oriented, soldier persona.

He lightly bumped her shoulder with his and softly agreed. She immediately relaxed. And while she didn't look at him, he could see her lips curve slightly.

They walked on in a leisurely fashion, an easy silence between them. They practically had the street to themselves.

"Gibbs … ?" Ziva questioned thoughtfully, then stopped without finishing her query.

"Yeah?" he asked, waiting for her to continue.

"Nothing," she returned with a shake of her head. "It is not my place to pry."

"If there's something you want to know, ask it," he told her. "If I don't wanna answer, I won't."

After a minute of silence, she began softly.

"Why are you not …" Ziva's voice trailed off as she paused again for a moment. "I thought perhaps you would visit your father over Christmas."

He didn't seem mad, but he took so long to answer that she felt compelled to add, "I am sorry – it is none of my business."

"Never apologize," Jethro noted reflexively. After another pause of his own, he asked, "You know about him, huh?"

She nodded.

"Research?" he guessed.

She nodded again.

He still didn't seem angry, but she remained a little guarded, worried that she'd overstepped her bounds. Before too long, he gave an answer to her implied question.

"Jack and I don't always see eye-to-eye. Makes things difficult sometimes … complicated." He didn't elaborate.

After a few seconds of reflection, Ziva offered, "That sounds a great deal like my relationship with my own father."

Neither of them needed – or wanted - to say more just now. And still, a link was forged between them that went beyond simply working together.

_TBC …_


	2. The Second Year

_A/N: THANKS so much to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, alerted and read this story - I'm so happy you're loving it as much as I do. =) I'll be responding individually, as well, but holiday plans are decreasing my computer time at the moment._

_For those of you following "Brewed Awakenings," there will be an update soon. Happy New Year and happy reading! _

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><p><em>Year Two …<em>

The day before Christmas Eve, Ziva took her time getting ready to leave, waiting for the bullpen to be empty. Then, without looking over at her boss where he sat at his desk, she asked a question, her tone intentionally nonchalant.

"Are you working tomorrow?"

"Yep," he answered in his usual minimalist style. "And a double the day after that."

She smiled while still staring at her computer, but didn't say anything else.

They walked to the parking garage together a short time after.

"See you tomorrow, David," he offered as she turned toward her car, letting her know that he was aware she'd be working at the same time, too.

Her smile was bright. "Yes, see you tomorrow."

Like last year, they were scheduled for the second shift on Christmas Eve, so Ziva spent the time earlier in the day making a large pot of matzo ball soup, biscuits and a pumpkin pie. She also pulled out an interesting chisel that she'd found about a month ago. She'd been exploring a nearby town one weekend on her own and had wandered into an old-style hardware store. The tool had made her think of Gibbs and she had impulsively bought it. This seemed like a good time to give it to him.

The chisel had come in a plain cloth bag that tied near the top. Ziva attached a card that had "Merry Christmas" pre-printed on it, but she did not sign it. Her plan was to hide it in his desk for him to find. She tucked the package into her backpack, loaded up the food and headed into work.

Gibbs was already at his desk when she arrived loaded down. He immediately got up and went to her, taking the basket that he was secretly hoping held their supper like last year.

Tony and Tim had covered first shift and were off the next couple of days. They were just getting ready to leave. Tony's eyes lit up when he spotted the food basket.

"Ho-ho-ho," he chanted. "Did Santa Ziva bring us all dinner?" He was clearly delighted at the prospect.

"No, Tony," she responded, ignoring his disappointment. She knew he had plans to attend a holiday party with his latest girlfriend, anyway. "This is for those of us working until 11 p.m. tonight – and a double tomorrow."

"This go in the fridge?" Gibbs asked, looking at Ziva. She nodded with a small smile, then retrieved the biscuits to keep at her desk. Before she let him go, she dashed off a KEEP OUT note and attached it, same as last year. Gibbs smirked, then headed toward the break room.

Tony's eyes darted between Gibbs' back and Ziva.

"Feeding the Bossman, eh, Zee-vah?" he probed.

"I am feeding us both, Tony," Ziva amended his observation in a firm tone that didn't invite further questioning. Then her lips curved in a smile for her friends. "Now go enjoy your holiday plans. You, too, McGee."

She was alone in the bullpen now, but she left the chisel in her bag. She didn't want Gibbs to find it until tomorrow, so she would bide her time on that.

The night was again pretty quiet. About half-way through their shift, they ate dinner in the break room where Ziva warmed the soup in the microwave. She flushed with pleasure as Gibbs' eyes lit up when he spotted the pumpkin pie. When they were through eating, they packed away the leftovers to have for lunch tomorrow.

After their shift ended, they parted company in the parking garage. Gibbs walked her to her car, then headed toward his truck as she called out that she'd see him tomorrow. He acknowledged that with a wave and a small smile tossed back over his shoulder.

They pulled out of the parking structure, Gibbs following her. He stayed behind her until it was time for him to turn off toward his house, which he did with a flash of his lights. She honked the horn of her Mini Cooper in response. She drove a little further to make sure she was out of his sights and then she doubled back to NCIS. After parking, she pulled the chisel from her backpack and tucked it into her pocket. She quickly made her way up to the bullpen, murmuring to the guard downstairs that she'd forgotten something. With a smile, he waved her on through.

Ziva went directly to her boss' desk and opened the drawer in which he habitually kept his badge and gun. Removing the chisel from her coat, she placed it in the drawer far enough back that it wouldn't be immediately obvious, but not so far back that he wouldn't find it. Pleased with her handiwork, she headed home.

When she arrived at NCIS the next morning, Gibbs was just walking behind his desk.

"Good morning, Gibbs," Ziva said, putting her backpack behind her desk. "Merry Christmas."

"Happy Hanukkah," he returned with a ghost of that half-smile of his. Then he asked, "It's still Hanukkah, right?"

She smiled, rather touched that he knew that. "It is this year, until the 28th. Very observant of you."

"Didn't think it usually went after Christmas, but honestly haven't paid much attention," he admitted somewhat sheepishly as he shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto the extra desk beside his. He'd never had a real reason to keep track of the Jewish holidays – until Ziva.

"You are right – Hanukkah is normally over before or near Christmas, but the dates change every year and occasionally it is not over until after Christmas. This is one of those years," she explained.

She'd finished unwrapping herself from her winter outerwear and stowed her badge and gun away in her drawer. She sat down to turn on her computer, watching Gibbs out of the corner of her eye. She was practically buzzing with excitement on the inside, waiting for him to find his gift, but outwardly she was as calm, cool and collected as ever.

Gibbs dropped his things in his top right-hand drawer with little thought and closed it immediately. Before they knew it, it was time to take a break from paperwork and have their leftovers from yesterday for lunch. They spent the afternoon doing what research they could on some cold cases, hoping a new lead would pop.

At dinner time, Gibbs looked over at Ziva where she was working quietly at her desk. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced his way.

"Chinese?" he asked with an eyebrow cocked.

She smiled immediately.

"That sounds good," she answered. "Can we walk again?" He nodded with his characteristic smile.

She sent an e-mail to dispatch so they could be tracked down if needed, put on her gun and badge, and began bundling back up against the cold weather outside.

Gibbs reached into his drawer for his own shield and weapon. Something unexpected caught his eye just as he was about to slam the drawer shut again.

He reached in once more, further back, and pulled out a simple cloth bag with a brightly-colored tag that read "Merry Christmas." He turned it over in his hands, looking at it thoughtfully.

"What is that?" Ziva asked curiously, nothing in her voice giving anything away.

He shrugged.

"Perhaps you have been very good this year and Santa paid you a visit," she teased with a twinkle in her brown eyes.

He snorted, but tugged open the string holding the small sack closed and dumped the contents into his hand. He closed his fingers around it and tested the weight of it in his hand.

"Nice chisel," he commented. "Really nice chisel."

He looked up at her. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this?" he asked, catching her gaze.

"About chisels? I am afraid not," she informed him regretfully, pretending to be ignorant of his real question. "Now if it were a knife or a gun, I know a lot about those." Her eyes gleamed with humor.

He smirked, but didn't press her further. He put the tool back in its bag and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket, unconsciously placing it close to his heart.

They had dinner at the same restaurant and Mei welcomed them warmly. Dinner passed easily, comfortably. Though neither of them were the type to reflect on it too much, they had become friends in the past year, as well as coworkers.

On the walk back to NCIS Ziva commented, "It is certainly cold this year, but I wish it would snow like it did last year." Her eyes looked up at the dark sky with disappointment.

"Too cold to snow," Gibbs offered.

She looked at him in confusion. "That does not really make sense."

He shrugged. "That's what people say." Then he looked at her with a twinkle in his blue eyes. "McGee could probably explain it to us."

She laughed lightly. "True."

They continued back to work in companionable silence and finished out their shift much the same way. As they parted company in the parking garage that night, Gibbs called out, "Same time next year, David?"

Her lips curved.

"It is a date," she agreed. Then she blushed, realizing her words could be taken another way. She stammered, "I mean –"

"Know what you meant," he interrupted her with a gleam in his eyes and his characteristic grin.

A tradition had been born.

Three days later, Ziva reached into her top right-hand drawer to retrieve her weapon and badge in preparation for heading home at the end of her shift. Tim and Tony were already at the elevator and were holding it for her; Gibbs was still at his desk.

A small package wrapped rather awkwardly in plain brown paper was resting over her things. She paused, her brow furrowed. She was sure it hadn't been there earlier. She gently touched it … it felt hard, maybe with some kind of design.

"Come on, Zee-vah," Tony called impatiently.

"Go ahead," Ziva responded. "I will be another minute."

After the elevator doors closed, Ziva dropped back down in her chair and removed the package. Gibbs eyed her surreptitiously.

The Israeli gently tugged the paper loose from the tape holding it and then stared at the contents, more than a little stunned. Inside was a wooden snowflake larger than the palm of her hand with a thin plastic twine – like fishing line, she guessed - tied through the top so it could be hung up. The wood was an attractive pale, rippled color with a satin-like sheen and the carving of the snowflake was beautiful. She cradled the object gently in one hand.

Ziva slowly looked at her boss, too moved to speak at first. Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced up at her.

"Gibbs?" she whispered.

He looked at the snowflake.

"Silver birch," he commented. "Nice wood. Carving's not bad either; would take the right equipment, though - including a really good chisel."

She looked back down at the gift.

"It is beautiful," she husked, gently tracing over it with her fingertips.

His only response was a smile.

She carefully re-wrapped the snowflake and placed it in her bag. Gathering the rest of her things, she stood to leave. After she'd taken one step around her desk, she paused.

Turning, she walked around Gibbs' desk and stopped by his side. Bending, she placed a very, very soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes bright with emotion.

He neither confirmed nor denied that he'd made it, but the ghost of his characteristic smile made her feel all warm inside.

And the tradition had been expanded.

_TBC _…


	3. As Time Goes On

_A/N_: _This chapter will cover most of the next couple of years, with some mention of some canon events (though not necessarily in the same "year" they happened on the show). However, Somalia never happened in the context of this fic, so you will not see any reference to that._

_Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy this next installment. Go ahead - let me know if you do. =)_

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><p>The next two years passed in pretty much the same manner as the first two for Ziva and Gibbs over this particular holiday. They always worked second shift on Christmas Eve, as well as first and second shifts on Christmas Day. Ziva made soup, biscuits and pumpkin pie for their dinner the first night and lunch the next day. She started asking if he wanted something different, but he never did. For dinner on Christmas Day, they walked to the same Chinese restaurant.<p>

They each began to secretly look forward to these times, and Tim and Tony knew they would always get those days off, even if they were up on rotation. There was work to do, of course, whether it was finishing paperwork or tying up some loose ends on a case the team had recently solved, providing backup to other teams or working cold cases. So far they hadn't had a major new case fall to them on these days.

During their meals together, they would talk … sometimes about the work, sometimes sharing memories. They told each other things they never spoke of to anyone else; somehow the dark places that lived in each of them resonated with the other, providing a basis for true understanding that often eluded these two when it came to relationships.

Over the years, they also began spending some time together outside of work. He took her to ballgames and taught her to sand and cut wood; she offered to teach him to cook and smiled, absurdly pleased, when he said he'd just rather eat her cooking. He went sightseeing with her, as she wanted to know more about the area in which she now lived. They went to some places he hadn't visited in years despite the fact that DC and the surrounding area had been his back yard for nearly two decades. Seeing the magnificent monuments and museums and re-learning the rich history through her eyes made it new – even fun – for him.

They continued to give each other gifts, as well, though neither acknowledged it. Ziva had once overheard some people in the office talking about doing a Secret Santa exchange. From what she could tell, she and Gibbs had their own version of that.

No matter when Hanukkah fell, Ziva would find a handmade wooden surprise on one of the days. The third year they worked together, it was a key chain with a Z carved from olive wood. She instantly recognized the wood, which was grown in the part of the world in which she'd been born and was highly prized. He must have special-ordered it, which touched her beyond the gift itself.

She always planted his gift for him to find on Christmas Day. That third year she used her new wood-working skills to make him a sign out of wood. It was nothing fancy – just a rectangular shape. After all, she hadn't gotten that advanced with the techniques he'd taught her thus far. He actually laughed out loud when he saw that "Come In" was painted on one side and "Go Away" on the other. She commented that someone must know him very well and observed it might make a nice addition to the door leading to his basement.

Then she took a sticky note from her desk, wrote something on it and ambled over to where he was sitting. She placed the slip of paper on the bottom of the side of the sign that was less welcoming. He looked up at her with a twinkle in his eyes after he read it. "Except Ziva." She threw him one of her winks and went back to her desk.

That following year was a difficult one. They lost Jenny, a woman who had meant a lot to both of them. Then, Vance had scattered the team suddenly and unexpectedly. In the wake of all that, they drew even closer when Ziva returned from her undercover stint in Israel.

For Hanukkah that fourth year, he made her an olive wood trinket box with a Star of David carved on the top. She tucked two tickets to see the Tall Ships that were visiting Chesapeake Bay that spring into his desk drawer for him to find on Christmas Day. He couldn't have been more surprised – or pleased - with her choice.

Because they worked Christmas Eve and Christmas Day every year, they were always scheduled off on New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. That year during their fourth annual Chinese dinner, Gibbs surprised Ziva with an invitation.

"Got plans next weekend, David?" he asked her nonchalantly.

The actual holidays fell on Sundays this year and so they had Monday off, as well, as the "official" holiday.

She shook her head.

"I will probably just watch movies in my pajamas and try to sleep in." Her eyes took on a twinkle as she wagged a finger at him. "But do not tell Tony I am going to watch movies; he will just try to tell me what to watch!"

They both chuckled.

Gibbs sat quietly, but Ziva had become attuned to his moods and knew he had something on his mind.

"Why do you ask?" she probed.

He shrugged.

"Thought I'd go see Jack," he shared. "Wondered if you'd want to come along."

To say she was stunned was an understatement. Luckily, her training kicked in and her face showed none of that.

Gibbs' father had dropped in a time or two over the years and a Marine's murder had even taken the team to Stillwater once. The two men seemed to be getting along a little better these days; however, Gibbs had not made a visit home since that case, as far as Ziva knew. And to ask _her_ to go along when he was finally making a trip to his hometown simply floored her.

Ziva looked into Jethro's face as her mind whirled, trying to decipher what was behind the offer. She was silent so long, he started to regret bringing it up.

"Forget it," he mumbled, waving aside the invitation as though it were of no consequence. He looked down at his plate to avoid her eyes.

A gentle hand on his forearm stilled him.

"I do not want to forget it," she told him softly. He risked a glance into her smiling brown eyes. With a squeeze of her fingers, she admitted, "I would like to go. You just surprised me, that is all."

_Surprised myself_ he thought as his characteristic half-smile tugged at his lips.

She had indeed gone to Stillwater with him the following weekend and even Jethro had seemed to enjoy the trip.

When it came time for the Tall Ships exhibition a little later that year, he asked her to go along to that, too. The invitation came one night after the team had worked late closing a case. As a group, they had all headed to the parking garage and their respective cars.

Ziva waved at Tony and then at Tim as the guys drove off. Gibbs stood by her car door as she unlocked and opened it.

Leaning against the open door with his hand on the frame, he said casually, "Just so happens a friend of mine gave me two tickets to see the Tall Ships this weekend."

"That sounds right up your street," Ziva observed with a smile. He grinned inwardly, but didn't correct her wording. "Must be a good friend."

"Oh, she is," he agreed, looking into her brown eyes, his own unreadable.

But God help her, late at night in the privacy of her own apartment, she'd started wishing that there could be more between them … even though that was emotional suicide and probably the path to a one-way ticket back to Israel if he ever found out. He was serious about Rule 12.

"Wanna go?"

His question brought her out of her thoughts. She slowly focused on his words as he waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention.

"Ziver?"

She blinked and replayed their conversation quickly in her mind. The ships. He wanted her to go with him.

"Yes," she said with a small smile and a slightly husky voice. "I would love to go."

And so they went. And she fell a little further as she watched him and listened to him. She had never heard him talk so much at once, but the words flowed as he explained history and details that clearly fascinated him. He was completely into the moment, as excited as a kid as he led them from one thing to the next, sometimes grabbing her hand so she would be sure to keep up with him. He was natural and at ease, clearly in his element, with none of the residual tension from their work week in evidence.

She had given this to him - and he had shared it with her. She hugged that knowledge to herself with an inner smile, warmed by the thought.

He walked her up to her apartment that night as he always did after one of their excursions. But tonight when she turned to say goodnight after she'd opened her door, she caught that look in his eyes again, the one she couldn't read. Her brown-eyed gaze locked on his blue one, unable to break away.

Slowly, he reached a hand up and cupped her cheek, only a ghost of his usual smile on his face.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"For what?" she whispered.

"For today," he clarified.

With a slight shake of her head, she opened her mouth to make some comment about his friend who'd given him the tickets. Before she could speak, though, he laid a finger gently over her lips.

His gaze shifted to her mouth as his finger brushed back and forth over her lips with a touch as light as a butterfly's wing.

She would swear his eyes darkened. She knew he must see how her pulse began beating wildly at her throat.

That awareness sprang between them again, that sense that there was more between them than friendship. It had happened before, but they'd both resolutely ignored it. This was a little harder to overlook.

"Gibbs?"

Her barely-there whisper brought his eyes back to hers and him back to his senses.

She could see him steady himself with a deep breath. Then with a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead and that smile of his, he wished her goodnight. As always, he waited for her to close and lock the apartment door behind her before he left.

Unbeknownst to them both, tonight they each lingered on either side of the door for a moment, fingers touching the wood, wishing for more.

_TBC …_


	4. Operation SGG

_Later that year …_

One October night, Gibbs sat in his basement at his work table, an open bottle of bourbon and an empty mason jar – emptied of its very different contents not once, but twice already tonight - nearby. A chunk of olive wood sat before him. He'd ordered it to make Ziva's Hanukkah gift for this year and it had arrived today. He hadn't yet decided what to make and hoped the wood would tell him. It usually did.

_Ziva._ Tonight his agent was on his mind for more than one reason and deciding on her gift was not the primary one.

Over the past few years, he and Ziva had gotten close, really close. They were friends outside of work and she was usually the first person he thought of if he wanted company for something. In fact, they spent more time together away from the Navy Yard than anyone else realized.

The erotic dreams and other unexpected thoughts that had started visiting from time to time over the past year made it clear to Gibbs that some part of him wanted more than friendship. Sometimes he got the idea that she might, too … there were moments of almost-sizzling awareness and teasing flirtation that went both ways, but neither of them crossed that invisible line into overt, acknowledged attraction.

She was a damn good agent, too … _his_ agent. And there was the rub. He might want more, but he'd created Rule 12 for a reason. He really didn't think it was a good idea for coworkers to become romantically involved. Granted, he'd created that rule after being blindsided by Jenny when she up and left him all those years ago, but still … there was a lot of room for drama and interruption of the work if things went south between two people who worked together – and none of that took into account that he was her supervisor, for God's sake.

Besides, what did a damaged, old, thrice-divorced Marine really have to offer to a young, beautiful, vibrant woman like Ziva?

But that thought brought him back full circle to the case they'd closed earlier today and the look on Ziva's face that he couldn't get out of his mind.

They'd been working a murder that involved a photographer who happened to be blind. Some of the evidence had suggested at one point that his assistant was up to her neck in what had transpired, perhaps even in the death of the Petty Officer. Ziva had interrogated the assistant and had come to the perceptive realization that the woman was in love with her boss. For a brief moment, Ziva had looked pole-axed and hadn't been able to get out of the squad room quickly enough once they had the actual murderer behind bars shortly after.

During the interrogation, Ziva had reverted back to her usual professionalism within moments and Gibbs wasn't sure that anyone else watching from the observation room had noticed, but he had … and he couldn't stop thinking about it.

As time went on, that image – and what it might imply – continued to haunt him, to nudge him.

* * *

><p>December 1st had been a slow day full of paperwork so far and each member of Team Gibbs was at his or her desk. The only relief from the boredom involved the occasional, almost-snarky, big-brother-to-little-brother exchanges between Tony and Tim, with Ziva occasionally weighing in.<p>

Suddenly, Abby clomped into the bullpen with her arms full of a hodgepodge of holiday items which she promptly dropped onto Gibbs' desk. He stared silently at the things, then up at his forensic scientist. Grabbing two strands of tinsel – one silver, one blue – she began draping it over the cubicle walls near Ziva and Gibbs.

"Okay, I just finished decorating my lab and I decided we weren't going another year with you guys being all 'bah hum-bug' up here with no decorations, no nothing." Abby was full of her usual cheerful enthusiasm, but her no-holds-barred tone let the others know she meant business.

Just then, Ducky and Palmer walked up.

"Reporting as requested, Abigail," the medical examiner announced.

"Oh, good - everyone's here," Abby beamed. "Allow me to be the first to wish you all a Happy Hanumas." She rocked back and forth on the high chunky soles of her boots as she looked around the room with satisfaction.

Gibbs was clearly under the impression that she'd had one too many Caf-Pows, while the others looked on in confusion.

"Hanu-mas?" Ziva repeated slowly. "I realize I sometimes make mistakes with my English, but I do not believe that is a word."

Abby turned toward the Israeli, practically bouncing. "You're right, Ziva – and wrong. Well, right that it wasn't a word, but wrong because now it is because I made it one."

Abby looked very proud of herself as she included the others in her expectant gaze.

Ziva opened her mouth again, then closed it after a moment without actually uttering a sound, clearly at a loss as to what exactly to say.

"I can't believe I'm actually agreeing with Ziva on this," Tony started, "but she's right – that's not a word, Abbs."

"It is now, Tony," Abby informed him, narrowing her eyes determinedly, "because I said so."

Silence reigned for a moment while everyone just stared at Abby trying to digest what was going on here.

Abby huffed out a sigh.

"Look, I think we all need a little Christmas –" she glanced at Ziva, "and Hanukkah in our lives this year. I refuse to leave anyone's traditions out, so we're celebrating both. Voila! Hanumas."

The confusion began to clear.

Abby hurried over to Ziva's desk and leaned over to ask in an uncharacteristically low voice, "That's not disrespectful, is it? To mash the words together? 'Cause I don't mean it to be." The Goth bit the side of her bottom lip worriedly as she waited for Ziva's answer.

Ziva's face softened and she smiled gently at her friend.

"No, Abby," she assured her quietly. "It is not disrespectful in the least."

"Oh, good," Abby gushed, clearly relieved. "Look what I found you!"

She hurried over to Gibbs' desk as fast as her boots would allow her to move, snatched something up, then rushed back to hand the item to Ziva. It was a blue Santa cap with white furry trim around the bottom and a white fuzzy ball dangling from the top.

"Blue and white," Abby pointed out excitedly, "for Israel." She nodded her head toward the small Israeli flag resting in Ziva's pencil cup.

Abby waited anxiously for her friend's response. Ziva looked up at the forensic scientist with a warm smile.

"That was very clever of you, Abby," Ziva congratulated her. "I love it." And she perched the cap jauntily on her head. Abby beamed delightedly.

Abby quickly made the rounds, handing out a red and white Santa cap to Gibbs, green elf caps to the Elflord and Palmer, and reindeer antlers on headbands for Tony and Ducky. For herself, she had made her very own Santa cap: half blue and white, half red and white.

"Oh! And look what I found on Craigslist!" Abby hurried back over to Gibbs' desk and held up the last of the things she had plopped there. "A menorah carved with eight reindeer – cool, huh?" She was clearly excited and very pleased with herself.

Then, she looked over at Ziva for approval and was relieved to see the Israeli's incredulous smile.

"And don't worry, Gibbs. I wired it to use with these light bulbs, so no open flames," she assured him – though he hadn't even yet gotten that far in his processing of all that had transpired in the last twenty minutes or so.

"Thank you, Abby," Ducky said. "I shall wear these with pride in the full spirit of Hanumas." He turned his head so the little bells attached to his antlers jingled merrily. "And now, if you all will excuse me -"

"We're not done yet, Ducky," Abby stopped him. "We still have to talk about Operation SGG." She spelled out the last word as the three letters.

Again her look was smugly triumphant and the others were the very picture of confusion.

"Operation SGG?" Tim repeated, his tone clearly communicating that he must have misunderstood.

"Yep," Abby affirmed. "See, it's like Secret Santa, but that's exclusive, you know – totally not in the spirit of Hanumas." She looked to Ziva, who acknowledged her with an appreciative nod. "So, we're calling it Secret Gift Giving."

She paused to let that sink in, then rambled on in her usual fashion.

"I know, it's kind of a mouthful and not very catchy, but I couldn't come up with anything else," she explained without taking a breath. "Operation SGG sounds way cooler, don'tcha think?" She nodded decisively.

"Soooo … we're doing Secret Santa?" Tony asked, trying to catch up.

"No, Tony," Abby looked at him reprovingly with her hands on her hips. "We're doing Secret Gift Giving."

Abby turned to the side, encompassing both Ziva and Gibbs in her gaze. She figured these two would need an explanation. "See, Secret Santa – or, in our case, Operation SGG, is where –"

"You give someone something," Gibbs broke in without looking away from the papers he could now see again on the top of his desk.

"Without them knowing who it is from," Ziva finished. "You sneak it, so it is a surprise."

Abby's mouth dropped open as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Yeah," she drawled in obvious amazement. "That's exactly what it is."

She stared disbelievingly at them, trying to figure how the two people on the team that had the least interaction with others knew what Secret Santa was. Gibbs gave her his characteristic half-smile, while Ziva looked on innocently. Neither revealed how they'd received their insider information – nor did they look at each other.

"Ooo-ooo," Tony gushed. "I know who I want to pick as my gift-ee."

"Nope," Abby informed him. "Doesn't work that way, Tony."

She pulled a black velvet bag from her lab coat that had "Happy Hanumas" written on it in silver glitter.

"We draw names," Abby declared firmly. "If you get your own name, draw again; otherwise, you have to keep the one you get." She narrowed her eyes at Tony. "And no cheating. I will totally know if you do."

"Well, I think this is a splendid idea, my dear," Ducky offered. "And just what we need to get into the spirit of Hanumas around here."

Abby beamed at him approvingly.

"Thank you, Ducky," she said. "For that, you may choose first."

He did, then she took the bag around to everyone, one at a time, keeping the last name for herself.

"Now – ground rules," she announced. "Most important is the S in SGG – it's a secret, so no telling anyone who you got.

"There's a $50 limit. You can choose to do one big gift, a bunch of small gifts, or anything in between – whatever you want," Abby continued. "The giving shall commence on December 10th and go for two weeks, so you have ten days to plan."

"When will we reveal whose name we drew, Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Well, since the last day of Hanukkah is Christmas Eve this year, I thought we could have the big reveal then," Abby suggested.

Ziva held up a hand and wiggled her fingers. "I am working Christmas Eve," she pointed out.

"Me, too," Gibbs spoke up succinctly.

"I know. You two always work Christmas Eve – and Christmas Day, too," Abby observed. "What's up with that, anyway? You could let those days rotate to other people and have some holiday yourselves."

"I am exactly where I want to be those days, Abby," Ziva assured her gently.

"Same here," Gibbs added quietly.

Ziva glanced over at him. He didn't look her way, but a ghost of his characteristic smile curved his lips.

Before Abby could ask more about why she wanted to work then, Ziva cleared her throat gently. "Besides, others have family and I do not celebrate Christmas."

"Well, how about you two come in a little early and we all meet up in my lab before your shift and before everyone else goes home?" Abby suggested.

"Good idea, Abby," McGee approved, while most of the others nodded.

"Excellent," Abby beamed. "My work here is done. Go forth and spread some Hanumas cheer."

With a flounce of her short skirt, everyone's favorite forensic scientist started to leave.

"Oh!" She turned back for a moment. "Stop by to see my Hanumas tree in my lab. This year I added some blue bows, a silver Star of David - um, star – on top, some peace doves and some other stuff – it totally ROCKS!"

And with that, whirlwind Abby was gone, leaving six bemused friends in her wake.

* * *

><p><em>AN__: The blue and white Santa cap and the reindeer menorah are rooted in a conversation I had with my Israeli friend, IronIsraeliButterfly. Todah, chavera sheli. =) Two more chapters will take us to the end of this story. Thank you for reading!_


	5. Gifts From The Heart

There was much secret plotting over the next several days. Everyone managed to keep the name they'd drawn to themselves, as no one wanted to bring the wrath of Abby down on their heads.

Ziva had drawn Jimmy's name. After some thought, she settled on a dinnerware set with a cute snow-couple theme. He and Breena were getting married in a few months and Ziva knew from one of Palmer's longwinded, revealing conversations that Breena loved snowmen decorations. Christmas was fine, according to his fiancée, but snowmen – and women! – could be used for the holidays and all winter. It was a perfect combination of the whimsical and the practical.

Each day during Operation SGG, Ziva hid one of the plates, bowls or mugs for Jimmy to find, then she wrapped the rest of the set up in the box to give him on Christmas Eve – er, um, Hanumas.

Whoever had the Israeli's name left her chocolate treats every couple of days. Yum.

Ziva was also planning to give Gibbs something on Christmas Day, just as she had for the past three years – four if you count the first year when she'd given him the leftovers of the food she'd made. She was having trouble deciding what to get him this year, though. She spent many hours thinking about it and browsing through shops for inspiration.

Then, one day she found it. In the window of an antique store sat a replica of a tall ship very similar to one of the three they'd seen at the exhibition they'd gone to this past spring. Her mind immediately went back to that day and the almost magical quality that had infused it. It was one of her happiest memories.

The ship wasn't small, but wasn't so large that she couldn't carry it and she bought it on the spot.

The Big Reveal Day arrived and they all gathered in Abby's lab mid-afternoon. Fortunately, they hadn't caught a major case so everyone was there. The air in the room was quite festive. Abby and Ziva had baked cookies the night before, which everyone agreed were delicious. They'd put out coffee and punch to go along with them.

Ducky offered to go first. He'd drawn Gibbs' name and his gift was two tickets to a local professional baseball game. Gibbs' smile reflected his genuine pleasure.

"Thanks, Duck," he said, squeezing his old friend on the shoulder.

When Ziva presented Jimmy with the rest of his dinnerware set, he was so tickled that he hugged her. He said he couldn't wait to show Breena and that it was like receiving their first wedding gift. His enthusiasm warmed Ziva's heart.

Abby had purchased some Scottish sweets for Ducky and she had hidden them here and there for him to find over the past couple of weeks. For his final gift today, she had chosen an old-fashioned pocket watch that he enjoyed very much.

Tony had drawn Abby's name. During Operation SGG, he'd planted a few small gifts around her lab and in her hearse that alternated between chocolate and several pairs of Gothic-style or holiday-themed knee socks. His ultimate gift that he handed her today was two tickets to an upcoming concert for one of her favorite bands. He even offered to go along and showed her the earplugs he'd already purchased in preparation for the occasion.

Abby squealed so loudly before latching onto him with one of her attack hugs that Gibbs joked that maybe Tony should have worn the earplugs to the party. Everyone got a chuckle out of that, especially given that it was Gibbs who'd beaten Tony to the punch line.

Palmer had sent Tony on a scavenger hunt the last couple of weeks to find several small treats, always using a movie-themed clue. His final gift to the very special senior agent was a complete DVD set of _The Man from U.N.C.L.E. _television series. Tony couldn't have been happier.

It turned out that McGee had drawn Ziva's name. Thanks to the wonders of online shopping, his gift for her today included a murder mystery written in Hebrew by an Israeli – signed by the author, no less – and a book explaining common American English idioms. Ziva was delighted with both gifts, even though Tony had a sarcastic comment about the second book. She wrapped her arms around McGee in a warm hug, which surprised and charmed him.

Gibbs couldn't help but reflect on the changes in all of them. Five years ago, no one in that room would have wrapped their arms around Ziva – and she wouldn't have wanted them to. But a lot had happened over the years. And, now that he thought about it, while he and Ziva had always had some kind of unspoken connection, it had been this time of year five years ago that his own relationship with the Israeli had started evolving. If the thoughts that had been preoccupying him the last couple of months were any indication, perhaps the greatest change had been wrought within him.

"So, Gibbs, that means you had Timmy's name," Abby said calculatingly, pulling him out of his reverie.

Gibbs, who'd been largely silent throughout the exchanges, was leaning nonchalantly against the wall holding a cup of coffee, no gift in sight.

Tim flushed and stammered, "Don't worry about it, Boss …"

McGee hadn't received any gift at all over the past two weeks – which he had tried not to over-think. He now jumped to the conclusion that Gibbs had chosen not to play along with Abby's game.

With a secretive smile, Gibbs put down his coffee and silently beckoned Tim to follow him with a crook of his finger and a tilt of his head. They went through the sliding glass door into Abby's office area, with the others trailing behind. Gibbs led them to the back corner where a white sheet was covering a tall object. It blended into the wall so well, you had to look twice to notice it. However, taking a page out of Ziva's book, he'd pinned a note to the sheet that said, "DON'T TOUCH – this means you, too, Abbs."

Tilting his head toward the mysterious object, Gibbs gave McGee a small smile. "Happy Hanumas, Tim."

McGee was too stunned to move for a moment. Tony's voice brought him out of his daze.

"Well, open it up, McStupor – we want to see what you got."

Tim pulled the sheet off. If he had been stunned before, he was now simply staggered. A collective gasp rose from the others.

Before Tim stood a bookcase – and not just any bookcase. It was a barrister bookcase made from a beautiful tiger oak wood. There were four movable sections that stacked on top of one another, each with a glass-fronted door that could be opened out and then slid back between the shelves.

"An author needs a place a hold his books," Gibbs offered, rubbing a hand gently over the side of the cabinet.

Tim finally found his voice, but didn't know what to say.

"Gibbs, I …" He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

His boss clapped him on the shoulder. "You're welcome, Tim."

Not long after, the group dispersed. Each section of McGee's bookcase could be separated and Gibbs loaned him the blankets he'd wrapped around each piece to bring it in so that he could get it home. Tony, Abby and Palmer helped him load it carefully into his car and followed him home to help unload. Ziva and Gibbs headed up to their respective desks to begin their shift while the others headed out.

At last, quiet.

Ziva looked over at Gibbs as her computer was warming up. "That was a very nice thing you did for McGee."

"Like I said," he shrugged, "author needs a decent bookcase."

She shook her head at him with a small smile.

Ziva had brought their usual dinner, of course, and had placed it in the break room fridge before their gathering. Eventually, they got hungry enough to wander down and share the matzo ball soup, biscuits and pumpkin pie. There was an easy camaraderie between them, with perhaps a little added warmth to it tonight.

Near the end of the shift, Ziva returned from taking some files back to the storage room and began straightening up her desk in preparation for going home. She opened her top right-hand drawer to put something away and found a package lying on top of her badge. She smiled. Today was the last day of Hanukkah and he hadn't surprised her yet. It appeared he just had.

She pulled out the object without saying a word and laid it gently on the top of her desk. As always, it was wrapped in plain brown paper. Gibbs acted oblivious from his desk, but she knew he was watching surreptitiously. Then she unwrapped the gift and her world stilled.

Inside was a paperweight in the shape of a heart. It was about the size of her hand and was made from marbled olive wood. It had been polished until it shone. The underside was flat so that it would rest on the surface of her desk or a table. She gently smoothed her fingertips over the top where the heart curved up and out in a three-dimensional shape. She had to blink back her emotions at the simple beauty of it.

And the heart … she closed her eyes against the longing she was afraid he would see there.

"Thank you. Gibbs."

Her broken whisper reached his ears and he didn't miss the underlying emotion in her tone. That look was back on her face again … the one he'd seen while they were working that case with the photographer … the one where it seemed the world had suddenly dropped out beneath her.

Cradling the heart in her hands, Ziva abruptly stood up. Murmuring an excuse, she went directly to the ladies room. She was thankful to find it empty and she locked the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, then slid down it to the floor, allowing a single silent tear to fall as she wished for what she could not have.

Before long, Ziva took herself in hand. She inhaled deeply and let it out. Standing, she laid the paperweight carefully on the countertop and splashed cool water on her face. After drying herself off, she looked at herself in the mirror until her brown eyes were once again calm, neutral, back to normal.

She was content with her life. She was. She had good friends, a job she loved and a life that she had chosen – not one that had been pre-determined for her. And if she wanted to keep it all that way, she had to get a grip on the fact that she was in love with her boss.

She returned to her desk, avoiding his eyes. She could feel him staring as she created a place of honor at the front center of her desk for her new gift. With a lingering touch, she put it there and forced herself back to work. Luckily, there wasn't much longer to go tonight.

"You okay?" The soft question came from her left.

She looked over at Gibbs with a small but genuine smile. "I am fine," she assured him.

He looked at her searchingly, clearly unconvinced, but she was grateful when he didn't push her further.

When they left soon after, Ziva took her gift home with her, wanting it close. In fact, she laid it beside her pillow and crawled into bed next to it. Sleep didn't come easily at first, so she read through the book on idioms that McGee had given her until her brain finally relaxed and the emotional toll from earlier caught up with her. She turned out the light and surprisingly slept dreamlessly with her hand curved over the lovely wooden heart.

As she lay there sleeping, Gibbs sat for a long time in his truck outside her apartment building. He watched the last light go out – presumably in her bedroom – and still he sat. He'd been drawn here, but not to wake her. He stared at her darkened windows thinking back over her reaction to his gift, over the shift tonight, over the last few years, especially the holidays.

Finally the cold drove him home, but he couldn't sleep. Despite the fact that he had to be back at NCIS for a double shift in less than eight hours, he changed into comfortable clothes and headed to his basement. He poured a finger of bourbon and tossed it back, welcoming the liquid fire. Then he poured a bit more in the glass and sipped that slowly. Now that McGee's bookcase was out of here, he needed a new project. He started planning a new boat, jotting a list of additional supplies he'd need. He had some of the wood already and he began measuring, cutting, sanding, just letting the instinctive actions soothe him, settle him. After a while, he worked on autopilot while his mind considered … Ziva.

Shortly before dawn, he went upstairs in his house and dug out the small metal box that held about fifty scraps of paper, each with one of his rules written on it. He searched through until he found the one he was looking for. _Rule 12: Never date a coworker._

He stared at it for a while, then made peace with the decision he'd reached while he was working in the basement, the decision he'd been coming to for more than a couple of months ... the decision his subconscious had telegraphed with the gift he'd made for Ziva this year. He dug a pen out of the box and wrote a new rule on the back of this one. _Rule 51: Sometimes you're wrong._

Taking the paper with him, he went into his room to shower and get ready for work.

Despite the fact that he'd had no sleep, he beat Ziva to work on Christmas Day. She came in soon after, bundled up in a long cranberry red cloth coat paired with black hat, scarf and gloves, her cheeks pink from the cold. Unwrapping herself from the outerwear, she threw Gibbs a smile, her eyes bright.

She'd woken from her abbreviated, but deep sleep this morning with a new resolve to keep her feelings for this man in check. She didn't want to ruin the relationship they had by concentrating on her longing for what was out of her reach.

"Merry Christmas, Gibbs."

"Better not let Abby hear you calling it that," he teased with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

She laughed.

"Perhaps you will not rat me out, hmmm?" she asked.

He cocked a brow at her correct use of the idiom. She grinned.

"I have started reading the book Tim gave me," she revealed with one of those quick winks of hers that never failed to send a tingle through him.

"Your secret's safe with me," he assured her with a ghost of his usual smile.

As Ziva turned to lay her coat over the side section of her cubicle, he thought she murmured, "Yes, I have always felt safe with you."

His heart beat a little faster and the emotion he'd come to grips with last night threatened to escape his control, but he grabbed hold of it. This wasn't the time. But soon, though, he promised himself.

Ziva sat at her desk and pulled the paperweight he'd made for her from her bag. Like yesterday, she carefully unwrapped it, then placed it gently in the spot she'd created for it last night.

He smiled to himself, watching her.

Their shift went by uneventfully. They shared their leftovers for lunch and walked to the Chinese restaurant for dinner. On the way back to NCIS, it began snowing, much to Ziva's delight. She raised her face to the sky, closing her eyes against the soft moisture hitting her. She looked so beautiful and happy, it tugged at his heart. Then her tongue darted out trying to catch a flake or two and it was all he could do not to kiss them off her.

His decision to talk to her about the feelings he had for her – that he hoped they had for each other – suddenly made it harder to keep ignoring certain urges that he'd shoved away for a long while.

This year Ziva had enlisted the help of one of the security guards in getting her package to Gibbs since the box was too large for her to hide easily near her desk. Seeing Gibbs' truck already in the garage that morning when she arrived at NCIS, she'd carried the package in and left it with the man down at the front desk. The guard was working a double also, and so they'd decided that he would place the box on Gibbs' desk while the agents were out for their usual Christmas dinner. The guard gave Ziva a surreptitious thumbs-up behind Gibbs' back as the two agents returned to NCIS. They rode the elevator up in companionable silence. As they rounded Ziva's cubicle, Gibbs stopped in his tracks as he spotted the rather large box sitting in the middle of his desk.

He cocked a brow at her, but she put on a completely innocent expression in the face of his questioning look.

She moved around behind her desk and removed her coat.

"It appears that your SGG is not finished with you yet," she observed.

He gave her a knowing look that turned into a smirk when she gave him a quick wink.

He dropped his coat onto the empty desk beside his and stood behind his desk, running his hand lightly over the gaily wrapped package. The snowflakes and grinning snowmen made him chuckle inwardly. The paper changed every year, but she always used snowmen. He wondered if she'd ever noticed that.

He removed the paper with his usual economy of movement. Finding a box underneath, he pulled out his knife and slit the tape holding the flaps shut. Peering inside, he pulled out a bunch of white cotton stuff, then stilled as he first laid eyes on his gift.

Ziva watched as a rarely-seen, full-blown genuine Gibbs smile curved his lips. Her heart swelled at his reaction. She rested her chin on a loose fist formed by her hand, her elbow braced on her desk, and just observed him.

Gibbs carefully lifted out the large ship and nudged the box aside to set the gift directly onto the center of his desk. He slowly sat in his chair, never taking his eyes from the ship. One of his hands reached out, his fingertips gently grazing over the masts, the sails, the hull.

"Reminds me of the day we spent at the Tall Ships," he said softly, his eyes still in front of him.

"Me, too," she whispered.

"That was a good day," he reflected, finally looking her way. For once, there were no barriers in his eyes, just happy memories.

Her heart rate sped up, but she reined in her emotions.

"One of the best," she agreed warmly, quietly.

He nodded once to the side in that way he had and allowed his half-smile. "Thanks."

She smiled back, nothing but pleasure in her eyes. "You are welcome," she finally acknowledged.

That night they headed toward their respective vehicles, each with their gifts in hand. Since Gibbs had his hands full with the box that held his ship, Ziva opened his passenger door for him so he could place the package inside before turning to head to her own car.

Gibbs stopped her with a hand on her arm. As she looked back at him curiously, he kept tugging until he had her wrapped in a hug.

This was not the first hug they'd shared by any means. In fact, they'd discovered when they were alone with each other that they were both pretty "touchy-feely," tactile people. Neither realized – or at least vocalized - the element of trust between them that allowed that to happen and neither even considered the fact that they weren't really like that with other people, with the exception of Abby.

However, this hug felt different from previous ones. Ziva couldn't quite put her finger on it at first. Nonetheless, she relaxed into his arms, not wishing to be anywhere else. As he held her, she realized that she felt … cherished. Precious to him. She treasured the feeling. Sometimes it was hard to be around him so much with the feelings she had for him, but she also got to have moments like these – and she wouldn't have traded them for anything.

After a few minutes, he pressed a kiss to her head and pulled back a little.

"Goodnight, Gibbs," Ziva offered.

He smiled in that characteristic way of his and responded, "See you soon."

She headed to her car which was parked nearby and went home completely unaware that he planned to see her sooner than she thought – a lot sooner.

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><p><em><span>AN: Thank you all so much for reading and for loving this story as much as I do. =) Hang in there, LauraEve24 - tomorrow's chapter is a marathon, not a sprint, so you'll appreciate that I spread them out over two days in the long run. :p By the way, the next - and last - chapter takes the rating up to M, so be on the lookout for the update, if you're interested. And, yes, it's going M for exactly the reason most of you are hoping it is. ^_^_


	6. The Best Gift Of All

_A/N: As mentioned, this one is a long chapter, but I think you'll see why I chose not to split it up. So, get comfy and happy reading!_

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><p>The first thing Ziva did after arriving at her apartment was remove her coat and other wrappings. The second thing she did was take the heart Gibbs had made her from her bag, unwrap it and place it gently on her nightstand.<p>

She was tired, but she also felt sticky and a little … wound up, restless. She stood under a long hot shower until the water started to cool. After drying off, she pulled on a black clinging camisole top and matching flannel pajama pants decorated with white snowflakes, then tugged a loose light gray top over it in deference to the chilly temperature outside. The top didn't cover much, though. The arm holes were cut wide so you could easily see the camisole beneath and it hung off one shoulder. She left her hair to dry in its naturally curly state.

She decided to pour herself a shot of bourbon and cuddle up on the couch with a blanket and the mystery book McGee had given her. She figured she could sleep in as long as she wanted tomorrow morning as she didn't have to work, so she may as well relax for a while. On impulse she scooped up her new heart-shaped paperweight and carried it out to the living room with her. It felt stupid to want it close to her, but … she did.

She'd been home a little over an hour when a soft knock came at her front door. She immediately stilled, then looked at the clock. Who on earth would be knocking well after midnight, especially on Christmas?

Silently, she laid the book aside, slipped out from beneath the blanket, and pulled a gun from the drawer of the end table by the couch. Still without making a noise, she stepped to the door and looked through the peephole. It was Gibbs. To say she was shocked was an understatement.

She quickly unlocked and opened the door, holding her gun down beside one thigh.

"Gibbs?" she questioned, her brows drawn together in a frown of confusion. "Is everything all right?"

He nodded slightly with the ghost of a smile. When she didn't immediately offer, he asked, "Can I come in?"

Ziva blushed at the oversight and hurriedly opened the door wider. "Of course."

She put the gun away, then took his coat and hung it in a nearby closet. After folding up the blanket on the couch, she offered him a seat with a gesture of her hand and asked if he'd like something to drink. He nodded toward her still-mostly-untouched bourbon and admitted he wouldn't mind the same. She started toward the kitchen to pour him a drink. The banked appreciation in his eyes made her suddenly aware of her attire.

She blushed and said she'd just put something else on first and headed quickly toward her bedroom. She would have sworn he mumbled, "Not on my account," but decided that her ears must have been playing tricks on her.

She pulled on an oversized NCIS sweatshirt that covered her from her neck to her wrists to her thighs. She grimaced at how unattractive her outfit now looked, but shrugged and decided it was probably for the best.

She found him in the kitchen, leaning casually against her counter. From previous visits, he knew where she kept the glasses and the liquor and he'd helped himself. His eyes moved over her and he grinned inwardly at the baggy sweatshirt that now practically enveloped her, like she thought she could hide from him in that … like the image of what he'd already seen wasn't seared into his brain.

She cleared her throat gently and tucked her springy curls behind one ear in a gesture that was both nervous and shy – and completely endearing to the man in front of her.

"Why are you here?" she asked hesitantly.

"Said I'd see you soon," he reminded her with his half-smirk tugging at his lips.

"Yes, but I presumed you meant in a day or two – not within an hour or two," Ziva returned dryly. "Why did you not tell me you were planning to come over?"

"Maybe I didn't want to give you the chance to tell me not to come," he suggested quietly, glancing down at the dark amber liquid he was swirling in his glass before raising it to his lips.

"I could never do that," Ziva responded equally softly. She looked into his eyes and continued with a voice that had gone husky with emotion. "Not to you."

Something flared behind his eyes at her words, but she couldn't read it before it was gone.

"Is there something that you wanted?" Ziva pressed, trying to figure out what had brought him to her door at this hour on this night.

_Oh, yeah_ he thought, though he kept that to himself for now.

He stared down into his glass again for a long moment, then drained the contents with a single swallow. He sat the glass on the counter beside him with a deliberate movement.

"Yeah," he admitted, though he didn't immediately elaborate. He looked into her eyes as though he could find answers there, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out the question.

Ziva's nerves were starting to get the best of her. "What is it?" she pushed him. Part of her was pretty sure she didn't want to know, but the bigger part knew the tension within her was going to snap if she didn't get to the bottom of what was going on here.

"Was thinking about your reaction last night when you opened your gift," he started. "You almost seemed upset."

"No," she hastened to respond, though her heart was beginning to pound with panic. Surely he wasn't going to force her to talk more about that … was he?

"Something was going on," he persisted, looking into eyes, though he maintained his distance and his seemingly-relaxed stance.

She started to deny it, then looked away, closing her mouth. Saying as little as possible seemed the prudent route to take.

"Reminded me of something from a couple of months ago," he went on softly.

She remained mute and turned away from him. She gripped the back of one of the kitchen chairs until her knuckles went white with the force she was exerting.

Suddenly, he was behind her – _right _behind her.

His voice dropped an octave. When he spoke, the sound almost rumbled in her ear and she closed her eyes to hide her reaction. "Don't you want to know what it reminded me of?"

She started to nod yes, then abruptly shook her head rapidly no, keeping her eyes shut. He grinned.

He wasn't touching her yet, but his nose was almost brushing her hair. His body heat pulled her toward him like a moth to a flame and her traitorous body was suddenly swaying back against him until she jerked herself back rigidly upright.

"Made me think," he continued, practically breathing into her ear, "of the look on your face when you were interrogating that photographer's assistant and you were the first to realize she was in love with her boss. Remember that?"

Ziva squeezed her eyes shut even more tightly. Oh, God. He really was going to do this to her.

"What do you want from me, Gibbs?" she asked almost harshly, heartache in her voice.

What he didn't want was to cause her pain, but what was and could be between them had begun to feel too important to continue to ignore it. He smoothed a hand down her hair soothingly. Once again, she unconsciously leaned into his touch.

"Just the truth, Ziver," he informed her gently.

"Trust me – you do not want to hear this truth," she husked, trying to push him away with the tone of her voice.

"Let me be the judge of that," he murmured, not going anywhere.

She shook her head no.

"Is it really so hard?" he asked, finally giving into his urge to nuzzle his face lightly against the side of hers, leaning his head over her shoulder from behind.

She nodded, a lone tear streaking slowly down her cheek.

He turned her toward him and wrapped her in close. She gradually relaxed against him. Both of her hands came up to his waist, then slid around to clutch the back of his shirt almost desperately as she buried her head in his chest.

"Why?" he asked quietly.

"You will send me away," she whispered raggedly.

He pulled back far enough to tilt her face up to his with one hand under her chin.

"Look at me, Ziva," he commanded, though that warmth that made her belly tingle was still infused in his tone.

She slowly opened her eyes, willing the moisture in them to stay put. She tried looking at him, but couldn't hold his gaze.

"Nothing could make me send you away," he promised, his voice ringing with certainty. "And I dare anyone to try to take you from me."

The possessiveness in his tone had her eyes flying to his. Her heart began pounding even faster and her stomach flopped.

"Gibbs?" Her voice was still just a whisper.

"Why do you think I would do that?" he asked almost tenderly.

"Your rules," she replied succinctly in a low voice.

He tilted his head to the side once in that way he had of acknowledging something.

"Maybe it'd help if I told you I added one," he said enigmatically.

She looked at him in confusion. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper. Without looking at it, he handed it to her. With fingers that trembled, she released her grip on his shirt and took it.

Unfolding it, she found Rule 12 written there. She closed her eyes in pain. This wasn't new; she was well-acquainted with this rule. Her stomach dropped. It wasn't like him to be cruel - not with his team and especially not with Abby or with her.

"Turn it over," he murmured into her ear, his lips brushing against the outer shell as he spoke.

Heart pounding, she did as he directed.

_Rule 51: Sometimes you're wrong._

A sob caught in her chest and the tears she'd struggled to keep in check overflowed their banks as she continued to stare down at the paper even after the words were obscured by the moisture flooding her eyes. She was afraid to believe what those words might mean, but was too much in love with him not to see a glimmer of possibility.

"When I look back over the last five years," he began softly, "all my happiest memories are with you. And for the first time in twenty years I started looking forward to the holidays again and not because of the work – because of you."

Her heart was thudding in earnest now and it was hard to breathe. A spark of hope breathed to life somewhere deep inside her.

"You deserve better than me," he continued, but she cut him off, swiftly lifting her head to finally look at him.

"There is no one better than you," she defended him fiercely, her eyes flashing.

That adorable, crooked grin tugged up one side of his mouth.

"Gonna remind you that you said that someday when you feel like throwing something at me," he teased, those brilliant blue eyes of his twinkling in that manner that made her weak in the knees.

She chuckled in spite of the emotional rollercoaster running inside her and wiped at the tears on her cheeks. He bumped his nose against hers playfully and she slowly relaxed into him, her arms looping around his waist once more as her cheek rested against his shoulder. She still clutched the paper in one hand.

"God only knows what I'm getting us into here, but I need to know if you feel the same way about me as I feel about you." His tone was serious, but laced with tenderness and affection.

Ziva lifted her head to slowly lock her gaze onto his.

"How do you feel about me?" she whispered, unable to look away from him.

At her question, he allowed the feelings he'd avoided, stuffed and ran from for five years to shine in his eyes.

"I love you, Ziver," he admitted softly, certainly.

Her breath caught.

"You love me? Or you are _in_ love with me?" she asked in voice husky with emotion.

"In love with you," he clarified with a warm smile.

"Then I do feel the same way," she whispered.

Intense satisfaction flared in his gaze.

"Tell me," he directed in a low voice.

"I love you, too," she confessed softly. "So much."

That smile of his that could light up her whole world spread across his lips, pulling an answering one from her. Suddenly she was laughing and crying at the same time as her arms shifted to wrap around his neck, hugging him close. He was laughing, too, as he lifted her right off her feet with his arms tight around her waist.

Suddenly, that sizzling awareness that always hovered just below the surface between them sprang free from the constraints they both typically placed on it.

Bending slightly, he allowed her feet to touch the floor, but he kept hold of her. Eyes on each other's mouths, their heads bent toward each other as if in slow motion. Their faces almost nuzzled at first … lips softly brushing, then meeting more firmly … clinging, savoring this first taste. Then her mouth opened beneath his as his tongue flicked along her lower lip and the floodgates of desire opened.

By the time their lips parted for much-needed oxygen and Ziva could register reality again, he had her crowded up against a wall and had pulled one of her legs over his hip. She had no memory of it, but he'd yanked the sweatshirt and loose top off over her head and now had one hand burrowed beneath her camisole to curve around her side. Her own hands had clearly not been idle either, as she discovered they were sliding sensuously up and down his long, delicious back under the long-sleeved black tee he wore.

The slip of paper she'd been clutching so desperately must be lying somewhere amid the tangle of her shirts that were now on the floor.

As she struggled to breathe, his lips slid down her throat, unable to get enough of the taste, the feel of her.

He started to step back and she tightened her grip on him.

"Do not let go," she begged in a whisper.

Then, realizing that she sounded as desperate as she felt, she pulled back herself, removing her hands from under his shirt and putting as much distance between them as the wall at her back would allow. Her emotional balance was shot to hell with this one hundred and eighty degree flip in their relationship and she was suddenly worried she'd sounded too clingy or misstepped somehow.

"I am sorry –" she began, refusing to look at him.

Her efforts were for naught, however, as he simply followed her, closing even the small space she'd put between them.

"For what?" he asked, nuzzling her neck.

Her lips parted on a silent gasp.

She honestly couldn't put into words all she was feeling so she didn't answer him.

"For wanting me to hold you?" he asked, wrapping his hands around her neck, his thumbs smoothing over her jaws. "Don't ever apologize for that."

Her hands came up to clasp his wrists and her gaze cautiously came back to his.

"And wasn't letting go, by the way. Was just thinking maybe we could move this somewhere a little more comfortable," he informed her, his eyes managing to twinkle and flirt with her at the same time.

Something inside her relaxed. Letting out a deep breath, she gave him a sweet, relieved smile.

"I am sorry –" she started again. This time he stopped her with his mouth, pressing a brief hard kiss to hers.

"Would you stop with the apologies?" he growled playfully against her lips. He pulled back far enough to look into her eyes humorously. "Just because Rule 12 is history doesn't mean the whole damn list is gone."

She huffed out a chuckle and leaned her forehead against his chest.

"Comfortable sounds good," she agreed in a voice gone husky with emotion.

Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. He ensconced himself in one corner and pulled her down across his lap so that her back rested against one of his arms and the arm of the couch. She curled into him, her face tucked into his throat and her left hand curved around his neck.

He cradled her to him, his left hand buried in her long dark curls, at last indulging himself in that. His other arm curved over her hip with his hand pressed against her back. He laid his cheek on her head and just absorbed the feeling of her in his arms. She felt like she belonged there. In that moment, he promised himself he would do whatever he needed to in order to protect this.

Ziva's mind was still reeling, so she just concentrated on breathing him in and finding her equilibrium as they held one another. Slowly she began to relax, to believe that this was real. It was a heady feeling to find something she'd longed for – something she'd been certain she would never receive – suddenly within her grasp. Her body was catching up faster than the rest of her and he felt the tension leave her as she became almost fluid against him.

"Hey – you're not going to sleep on me down there, are you?" he joked, pulling his head back far enough to peer down into her face.

She smiled and shook her head, though she didn't move from what she thought would quickly become a favorite spot of hers.

Then she glanced up at him with a teasing twinkle in her eye. "Not yet, anyway." Her tone and look suggested _Maybe later_…_ after_.

He grinned and cradled her back in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"How did this happen?" There was more than a little wonder in her tone as Ziva gave voice to some of what was going through her head.

"What?" he asked indulgently, wanting to make sure he answered the right question.

"This – us," she clarified. "No more Rule 12." She looked pensive, then added, "And are you sure? Not just because of work … I am not like anyone else I have known you to be with."

"I'm sure," he affirmed as he tightened his arms around her for an extra squeeze. "And _this _has been building since we met." He paused for some uncharacteristic reflection. "We just kept ignoring it, pushing it back … the job, my rules …"

"So what changed?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer at first; wasn't sure he could.

"Things didn't so much change as … got my attention," he shared. "Remember how we started this year?"

"I remember," she said softly with a curve to her lips as she thought back to their visit to Stillwater.

"Best trip I've had back home since …" His voice trailed off. "Since I don't know when."

"I enjoyed that trip very much myself," she admitted.

Then he added dryly, "Not sure Jack will let me back in the house if I try coming without you."

She shook her head at that with a faint smile.

"There's always been something special between us, but this year it got harder to ignore." He looked down at her, but she was still snuggled into his neck. His voice dropped lower. "You remember when I walked you to your door after we went to see the Tall Ships?"

"I will never forget anything about that day," she husked. "That was one of the best days I have ever had."

"Same here," he shared. "Still, tried to avoid the feelings I had for you … until that day in interrogation with the photographer's assistant." He paused, thinking back. "I just couldn't get the look on your face out of my mind ... and couldn't stop wondering if that hit home for you."

He massaged her scalp tenderly with his fingers causing a hum of pleasure to leave her throat.

"Been thinking a lot over the last couple of months. Your gift this year just sorta made itself … Guess it was like telling you I love you without really telling you." He paused, considering that.

"I love that heart," she whispered. "It is so beautiful." She tilted her head to look at him and raised her fingertips to his face. "And I was not upset – not about the gift. I was just wishing for what I thought I would never have."

He lifted his hand to take hers, placed a kiss on her palm and then laced their fingers together.

"Didn't sleep last night," he admitted to her and he soothed her when she looked at him in concern. "It's okay – just thinking some more, thinking about your reaction, thinking about everything." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I sat outside your apartment for a while, then went home. Worked in the basement. Finally made a decision that my feelings for you were real and if you could return them … it would be worth any changes I have to make to be with you."

"What do you mean – changes?" she asked, a bit worried.

"Maybe nothin'. Maybe Tony leads this team and I take another one." He shrugged lightly. "Maybe training new agents – but only the field work." He clarified the last in a firm voice. After all, being in love hadn't suddenly made him stupid. Riding a desk full time would have him ready to kill someone. He looked at her with nothing but love and certainty in his eyes. "Whatever it takes."

"You would do all that for me?" she whispered in awe.

"I'd do more than that," he promised.

"I do not want you regretting this," Ziva fretted, worry making a line between her brows.

He rubbed it out gently with a finger.

"Not gonna," he swore.

"But –" Ziva still looked anxious.

"Ziva," Gibbs interrupted. He cupped her jaw in one hand. "I've only felt like this one other time in my life and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Damned if I know how I came to be lucky enough to find this twice, but I'll let go of everything else before I let go of you, unless you make me."

She looked at him searchingly. He was telling the truth.

The last worry inside her relaxed, at least for now.

"I do not want you to let go of me – ever," she told him softly. "And if a change is necessary with work, maybe I am the one who should make it." She grinned, lightening the mood. "I would even join the FBI."

He snorted. "I'd retire first."

"And do what with yourself?" Ziva asked archly.

He shrugged with a look in his eyes that managed to be teasing and hopeful and just a little arrogant all at the same time.

"Stay home. Build bookcases." He laid his forehead on hers. "Take care of the kids."

Ziva froze.

"Kids?" she asked faintly.

"Mhm," he confirmed, dropping a quick kiss to her mouth. "What - you need time to get used to the idea?" He nodded once. "Okay. Just remember I'm not getting any younger." His eyes took on a decidedly devilish look. "And neither are you."

She gave him a look that fell somewhere between annoyed and _you did __not__ just say that,_ and pinched his ass through his jeans for being cheeky. Then she smirked. It was true.

After a moment, she sobered. "Are you serious? About having children … with me?"

He nodded. "I want it all with you, Ziva."

Slowly, she dared to believe and hope dawned beautifully in her eyes.

She laid her head gently against his shoulder and rested a hand on his chest over his heart.

"I do not know if I would make a good mother," she started in a voice almost too quiet for him to hear.

"I do," he interrupted, no room for argument in his tone.

The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she pressed a grateful kiss to his chest.

"But you would be a wonderful father," she finished in a whisper.

He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. They shared a smile that said so much … and promised a future.

"We're off the next couple of days. Could we just be together?" he asked softly, brushing his fingers across her cheek. "Then we'll start figuring out work."

"I would like that," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Their lips came together and their kisses went on forever. Slowly their hands started wandering over bodies, under clothes … driving their passion for each other to a fever pitch. After months – even years – of longing, the pleasure in immersing themselves in this was overwhelming.

Ziva slid her hand under his shirt as she captured his lower lip between hers. He groaned as she smoothed over his hard muscles, reveling in the contrast between those and the unexpected baby-soft patches of skin she encountered here and there. When she scraped her nails gently over his nipples, he nearly growled and he deepened their kiss until he was practically swallowing her whole. She returned the favor.

His hand slid over her camisole, paying particular attention to her lovely breasts. The cotton was so thin and smooth it was practically like there was nothing between his skin and hers. His fingers played with her hardened nipples that he could feel through the material and she moaned her pleasure.

Sliding his hand under her top, he repeated the caresses without the barrier between them. She gasped and her head dropped back. He couldn't resist the sexy curve of her throat and he licked his tongue slowly up it, then pressed a row of tiny kisses all the way down. He didn't stop when he reached her chest; instead his mouth wandered over every exposed bit of skin he could reach. Her breath was coming faster and her arms wrapped around his head, the fingers of one hand thrust into his hair, encouraging him to continue.

He brought his mouth to her breast and tongued her nipple through the cotton of her top while his hand stayed underneath, learning her soft curves. She whimpered, more of a mew, really. The sound went straight to his groin.

His mouth lifted just enough that he could look up at her face. Her gorgeous features were etched in ecstasy and satisfaction slammed through him.

"Ziva," he breathed. Slowly her head came forward and she opened eyes that had gone hazy with desire.

He nudged the spaghetti strap that went over her shoulder with his chin, his eyes like brilliant blue sapphires from the passion running through him for her.

"Pull this down for me," he husked. He needed to know that she wanted this, too. Plus, he just thought it would look sexy as hell. He was right.

Looking into his eyes, her left hand came up and her thumb hooked under the thin strap. Moving with a torturous lack of speed, she pulled the strap down and kept going until her breast was bared before him. He couldn't help but look down at her and his breath caught in his throat, robbing him of speech for a moment.

"Knew you'd be as beautiful under your clothes as you are everywhere else," he finally managed.

"You have not seen me everywhere." Her eyes darkened and she added wickedly, "Yet."

He groaned and took her mouth with a possessive kiss.

"Want to," he shared raggedly when he'd let go of her mouth for the moment.

"You will," she predicted with a siren's curve to her lips. Then she cupped his jaw in her hand. "Hopefully sooner than later."

"We don't have to rush this part," he said sincerely.

Her smile took on a tender quality. God, she loved him. And she wanted to be with him.

"I do not think that five years can be considered rushing by anyone's standards," she teased lightly, the affection still in abundance.

"True – but you weren't expecting everything to change tonight." There was an earnest, genuine concern underneath his words.

"Jethro." Then she stopped to smile with wonder. She loved calling him that, loved knowing that she could, loved the intimacy it spoke of between them. "I have never been happier than I am right now. I love you. I want to be with you." She stared at his mouth as she traced her forefinger lightly over his lips, then she looked at him with eyes that had gone dark with need. "I just … want you."

As they'd talked and touched and kissed, her confidence in these feelings between them had soared. She decided to be a little more forward and wiggled her hip provocatively against his hard shaft beneath her.

"And if you try to tell me you do not want me back," she whispered into his ear in a sultry voice, "I will not believe you." She grinned against his ear as he huffed out a chuckle.

"I want you," he confirmed, watching his fingers move on her breast again, finding it unbelievably erotic.

She hummed out her pleasure and pulled his mouth back to hers for a series of soft, sexy kisses that clung to his lips. Eventually, he slid his mouth down her neck again and she pressed him to her with a hand at the back of his neck.

His head dipped even lower. His mouth hovered over her breast, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The yearning inside her ramped up and she raised her breast toward him, presenting herself to him, silently begging him to take her up on the offer. He didn't disappoint her.

At the first touch of his tongue against her bare nipple, Ziva cried out and arched back, thrusting herself even more fully at him. He immediately took more of her into his mouth, sucking, nuzzling, kissing, licking. God, she thought she might come out of her skin at the sensations running through her.

His hand shifted to push aside the camisole that was still covering her other breast and he paid equal attention to that one, too, with his hand, his mouth. He learned her, tasted her tirelessly, indulging himself – and her.

Her thighs began pressing together tightly, trying to relieve the pressure that was building there. Her hips wiggled against him and he relished the knowledge that he was driving her crazy.

"Jethro," she whimpered. "I need …"

Her voice broke off, unable to finish.

He skimmed his mouth from her breast up to her ear.

"I know what you need," he breathed. "You need me to touch you." His hand slid from her breast, skimming slowly down her body to where she wanted him to touch her most. She whimpered again and his blue eyes sparkled wickedly as his hand detoured to glide over her hip, over her ass before unhurriedly smoothing back to the apex of her thighs. "Here."

"Yes," she breathed, desperation in her voice. "Please."

He stroked her lightly – too lightly. He grinned as she buried her face in his neck and pushed herself against his hand. He took pity and pressed a little harder.

"How's that feel?" he asked, his tongue coming out to trace her ear, lick her throat.

"Good," she managed in a strangled voice. "More."

He pressed harder. "Better?" he asked devilishly.

"Yes," she all but hissed, lifting her hips against his hand, needing even more.

Her breath was coming faster. His heart was pounding just watching her in the throes of their passion. And his dick was getting impossibly hard, but that could wait. He wanted to see her come, just like this.

He put his lips to her ear again, his voice a husky whisper.

"It'll feel even better when I put my hand inside your pants …" She moaned and then he continued, "… and my fingers inside you."

She gasped and arched again and he could feel the gush of wetness through her flannel pants. She was practically sobbing with her need for release from this deliciously unbearable tension gripping her.

"Jethro …" she pleaded.

He oh-so-slowly slid his hand inside the elastic waistband of her jammie pants, inching down until he encountered her tight dark curls damp with moisture. It was his turn to groan. She was so wet and full and warm. For him. Only for him.

Ziva made a noise of gratitude, opening her legs to him as far as her clothing would allow. He rubbed back and forth, relishing the feel of her. When he couldn't wait any longer, he slid his long finger inside her.

She arched into him again, thrusting her bare breast toward his mouth and he couldn't resist. He suckled her hard and she whimpered from the simultaneous sensual assault. The sounds of pleasure she made – a gasp, a moan, a mew, a strangled breath – nearly sent him over the edge, so he concentrated on bringing her to completion, taking satisfaction from that himself.

He slid another finger inside her. Before long, he felt her climax building. He was unrelenting as he worked her with his hand and murmured words against her skin as he continued to kiss and suckle her breasts.

"Jethro," she called out, hanging onto him for dear life.

He raised his head enough to look into her lovely face, wanting to see her as she came for him this first time.

"I've got you, Ziver," he husked. "Go over for me."

And with a last curl and thrust of his fingers, she did.

Her body tensed and arched back, her thighs clamping together to trap his hand in place, too sensitive to allow him to move at all just yet. That was okay; he had no intention of going anywhere. He watched and held her as she rode out the delicious aftershocks. Eventually, her breathing slowed and her body relaxed nearly to the point of being boneless.

Slowly he pulled out of her, causing them both lose their breath. He smoothed his hands along her clothes, righting them once again and drying his fingers.

Her head fell slowly forward, her forehead coming to rest on his, one hand coming up to press fully against the side of his face. Her other arm remained locked around his neck where it had been. Joy bubbled up inside her and she couldn't contain it. A breathless laugh left her throat as she smiled down at him.

"Well." She was finally catching her breath enough that she could speak. "Happy Hanumas to me."

That had them both chuckling delightedly, holding each other close.

Her lips captured his again, warm and soft. After they pulled apart, his hand came up to brush her hair back from her face and caress her face. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his hand.

She turned and pressed a kiss there, then rested her cheek on his hand again as she looked back at him.

"I am still having a little trouble believing all this," she admitted softly, her eyes full of wonder.

"Be happy to give you another demonstration," he teased flirtatiously, bending his head to nuzzle her throat.

"Mmmmm …" she hummed. Rubbing the side of her face against his head just because she could, she allowed her mind to picture the two of them together, in her bed. "I have a suggestion about that," she murmured.

"What's that?" he asked, his lips curving against her skin.

She tugged his head back so she could see into his incredible blue eyes. Her heart tripped at the emotion she could see shining in them and all she could do was marvel at him for a moment. Then she remembered what she was going to say.

"The next time you make me come," she started in a low, sultry voice that sent his nerve endings tingling, "I want you inside me."

His chest constricted and his body hardened further as it was his turn to picture them naked.

"Oh, yeah." Then he had another thought. "Or, at least the time after next." He looked at her with desire burning freely in his gaze. "Want my mouth on you."

She gasped and pressed her body against his.

"I want that, too," she admitted in a ragged whisper. Then her eyes darkened and she breathed into his ear, "And I want to touch you with my hands, my mouth … everywhere."

He couldn't have stopped the groan that left his throat anymore than he could have stopped breathing. He captured her lips with his in a kiss that threatened to drown her senses until she gave as good as she got.

When they finally came up for air, she slid slowly off his lap and held out a hand to him.

"Come to bed with me, Jethro," she commanded softly, sensually, her voice filled with certainty and need.

He took her hand and stood up beside her.

Ziva kissed him again and then started leading him toward her bedroom. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back to reach for the paperweight he'd made her. He looked at her curiously.

"I like to have it with me," she explained softly. Then she shared shyly, "I even slept with it last night." Her eyes dropped away from his at the last admission, seemingly embarrassed.

He laid the hand he held against his chest. "You can sleep next to this one whenever you want." His eyes were shining with emotion. "It's yours, too."

Her own heart simply melted.

"I would like to start with tonight," she told him, her gaze promising him forever.

They made love with each other and it was beautiful and fun and erotic and when he slid inside her, it felt like … coming home. For both of them.

After, she was draped bonelessly over him as they lay tangled together in her bed, her hair flowing sensuously around them. Ziva murmured his name sleepily just before he reached up to turn out the light.

"Jethro?"

"Mmmm?"

"You might want to start planning for next Hanumas very soon."

He cocked an eyebrow and looked down at her. She tilted her head back to gaze up at him with all the love she felt for him shining in her big brown eyes.

"You will have to work really hard to top this one."

_~The End~_

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><p><em><span>AN: __THANK YOU for joining me in this "Hanumas" universe; I truly hope you have enjoyed it as much as I did. I am grateful to my pal smackalicious for assigning me the opportunity to write this for my friend Sarah and am thrilled with the response it has received from Sarah and from the readers here. =) _

_I wrote one other story related to the NFA SeSa and will post that soon in two chapters. It's a Zabby pairing. Even if you aren't a Zabby shipper, perhaps you'll give it a read. Take care and thanks for reading!_


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